This is where he meets me, time and time again. All this place is unknown and my ignorance bleeds a trail with every step. But meeting him in the quiet place where the Word is all one hears, this I’ll always know though even on foreign soil.
In this slow reading, where the monotone drags, the Word speaks its own drama, unaided by cosmetics of human inflection. Its authority is gentle. Its crispness strangely soothing.